Widows' Revenge by Plante Lynda La

Author:Plante, Lynda La [Plante, Lynda La]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: thriller, Mystery, Fiction, Suspense, Crime
ISBN: 9781499862041
Amazon: 1499862040
Goodreads: 40591590
Publisher: Zaffre
Published: 1994-01-31T08:00:00+00:00

Shirley looked round her mother’s kitchen. It was a tip: the ironing board up, with a basket of ironing waiting to be done, the washing machine going, breakfast things still on the kitchen table—even the back door stood half-open.

“Mum!” she called out, but there was no reply. Then she heard what sounded like a radio playing in the bedroom. She put her bags down on the kitchen table and went through. Her mother’s bedroom was in the same state as the kitchen. She paused outside her own bedroom door.

“Lift your right leg. Now hold . . . straighten . . . and lower. Lift your left leg and hold . . . straighten . . . and lower. Now, lift both legs together . . . lift . . . hold. Don’t strain, whatever you do, ladies, don’t strain . . . lift . . . and hold . . . and down . . .” Shirley opened the door. It was a jumble of ladders, pots of paint, sheets thrown over her bed. Audrey was sitting on a chair, smoking a cigarette, her feet up on a box. She was reading a copy of Woman’s Own, as the radio cassette player on the floor beside her continued, “. . . and relax. Now lift both legs again, hold . . . straighten . . .”

Audrey turned and gave Shirley a grin. “Hello, love, didn’t hear you come in.”

Audrey surveyed the room. “What’s all this, then?”

“It’s the nursery,” said Audrey, stubbing out her cigarette. Audrey showed Shirley the fabrics she’d chosen, and where she was going to put the cot. Then she lifted a sheet from a crib.

“Greg gave me this.”

Shirley crossed her arms. “Yeah, I’ll bet ’e did. Nicked it from Mothercare, did ’e?”

Audrey frowned. Shirley really had been getting on her nerves lately. “Look, love, Greg’s giving me housekeeping now. I’m getting things organized here.”

“So I can see, Mum,” Shirley replied with a shake of her head.

Audrey waddled back to the chair and sat down. “Look, if you’ve only come over to pick on me, you can leave. A woman in my condition don’t need any aggravation.” She plonked her feet back on the box and picked up the magazine. “You seeing Micky, then, are you?”

Shirley didn’t reply.

“I ’ope you are. I think your problem is you’re not getting it. Everyone knows it makes you ratty.”

“Well, the whole world can see you’re getting yours, and look where it’s got you,” Shirley retorted, sitting down on the bed.

The two women looked at each other as the tape played on: “. . . repeat the exercise on your left side, lift the right leg up . . .”

“Oh, shut up!” Audrey flipped it off.

Shirley looked round the room again. She’d spent her childhood in this room, but it was a long time since she’d lived here. She was glad, in some ways, that it was all going to be done up.

Audrey caught her looking at her. Slightly embarrassed, she held her tummy.

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